


Roses

by eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Extended Metaphors, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insomniac Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Roses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports/pseuds/eeeeeeeeeeeeeaSports
Summary: Virgil likes to sit in the commons when the sun retreats beyond the horizon. When he sits and thinks, the more he wishes to cut away at the roses.One night, Roman catches him in his anticlimactic act of self depriving sleep habits.orVirgil is in love with roman and it hurts. he gets little sleep thinking about it and roman catches him- fluff ensues(I wrote this at like three in the morning instead of sleeping, enjoy some,,,,,prinxiety stuff?? Not sure if it's angst, not sure if it's fluff,,,but,,,,,,,,)
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Kudos: 51





	Roses

It was dark outside. The stars were sprinkling to life under the blanket of shadows, the curtains to the commons were pulled closed, and all was still in the mindscape.

Until it wasn't.

Under the darkness of night, it's common knowledge that Anxiety likes to thrive. The darkness of thoughts is his domain, and he enjoys the quiet of the midnight shadows as every other side is tucked into bed.

It wasn't that he disliked being around them, but he did prefer his alone time when he could get it. As of recently, though, Virgil had noticed that the stars weren't the only thing blooming in the depths of the night.

Within his chest, he could feel the tickle of petals as he drew his eyes to the muted TV. Petals that spilled out and filled him so wholely that his heart fluttered to accommodate them. But he knew what came next. The roses bloomed beautifully around his heart, crawling out and around every part of his body, but it wouldn't be long until the roses sprouted their thorns and tore him up from the inside out.

Roses always came with thorns.

The roses had found their place a while ago, feeding off the late-night thoughts as Virgil stared at the only light in the dark room for hours. The darkness left his thoughts to wander, the light from the TV not quelling his traveling mind as he spaced out each and every night.

It only took minutes for Virgil to be lost in the space of his own mind, silence ticking by with the time. He never said anything. He sat, dislodged from the world as the roses grew.

The petals would scrape against his teeth sometimes, trying to escape. At those times, Virgil always clamped his mouth shut and bit his tongue.

Sometimes, the petals would slide against his skin, calling out for someone to pull them out. At those times, Virgil encased his body in his hoodie and kept far away from everyone.

Often, the petals would find their way to his mind, settle and grow at the thought of their nourishment. At those times, Virgil played his music so loud he felt the thought of a headache, or he sat alone in the living room of the commons with the TV turned on but muted as he indulged in his thoughts.

And sometimes, in the depths of his own room, the petals would caress his senses and corrupt his mind, sending him spiraling down into thoughts he felt ashamed to have. At those times, Virgil distracted himself until the urges went away.

The petals were dangerous, he knew.

They seemed innocent at first, feigned it to gain his trust. They always seemed comforting at first, until the prickly reality set in again.

That's when the thorns grew.

Virgil could already feel the thorns sharpening as his mind took a nose dive down into his anxieties. The darkness was comforting to his nerves, and the eerie silence posed a greater threat to his digging thoughts.

He knew on nights like these, he would fall asleep on the sofa, unable to drag himself up to his room from the exhaustion of either an attack or a loose attempt at release, to which he opted for physical activity such as running.

Sometimes he went on walks when nights were like this, but other times the weight of the world hung heavy and he couldn't pull himself out from under it.

Tonight he would probably settle for an attack.

Or he would have, if the soft, careful thump of a step on the stairs hadn't caught his attention. Anxieties' senses were heightened anyway, but in the silent darkness, everything was loud. His eyes dragged along the darkness before settling on the stairs.

He couldn't see anyone yet. They must be at the top of the stairs.

He kept his eyes trained to the staircase as the soft padding of feet filtered back into the air. He watched as the fanciful side jumped a little in shock at seeing him staring as soon as he had got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Virgil," Roman muttered softly as he made his way over "what are you doing up this late?" He offered as he took a seat beside the accused. Virgil only shrugged, turning his attention back to the TV.

"Couldn't sleep" he replied after a few seconds of silence. He heard Roman let out a small sigh, feeling the cushions dip slightly beside him as Roman leaned back into them.

Virgil kept his eyes trained on the TV as the petals slid against his skin. He clenched at the sleeves of his hoodie in retaliation.

The silence between the two sides wasn't awkward, if anything it was comfortable, but Virgil knew the tranquil wouldn't last.

"You should really go to bed" Roman piped up softly from beside him. Virgil agreed within the depths of his mind. He really should, but it wasn't like he could. His insomnia kept him in the dim light of the moon, dipping him in the light of the TV and the darkness around him. He would stay out here because the safety of the surroundings were lazily at peace with him.

"Is something bothering you?"

Silence followed the question, and for a moment Virgil forgot he had to respond verbally. 'no.' his mind supplied for him, ammunition ready to shoot the worry down- but his mouth betrayed him and what came out instead was a whispered "Yeah..." That was a rugged breath more than it was a word.

The petals were pushing against his shoulders, or where they pressing down, pulling him into warmth and- oh.

Roman had draped an arm around Virgil's shoulders and pulled him into his side. Virgil hadn't pulled away, the Roses growing at the warmth of his touch and the wanting, needing, longing to be closer closer closer to Roman. It was suffocatingly good, and Virgil hated it.

He'd get attached, the petals would grow. He shouldn't get used to something that wouldn't stay, but it was so good. So nice, so comforting that it made him want to cry but he bit back the tears restlessly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Roman asked in a hushed whisper.

'no.' Virgil's mind screamed silently, 'just tell him no and the thorns won't be so sharp', but Virgil nodded instead because he did. He did want to talk about it, and everything was building up ready to burst, and the petals were scraping at his teeth now but his jaw was lax, mouth closed, and he didn't want to talk.

It started with the circles Roman was rubbing into his shoulder. Small rhythmic circles with his thumb against the smaller's arm and it felt nice, so nice, and he made sure to bite the petals as the words spilled from his mouth.

"I'm in love and it hurts."

The fleeting 'with you' that the petals had dropped in their injury floated in his mind before Roman pulled him noticeably closer. "Why does it hurt?" The intruder asked, voice melded with curiosity and worry and pure gentleness.

Virgil felt like he was melting.

"He's so good," he managed, vocabulary failing as the petals took refuge in his mind to supply him with all of the thoughts he had locked away in his nights staring aimlessly at the TV. "He's too good, I'm...not enough. And it hurts, I'll never be able to tell him because he's him and I'm..."

Roman sighed softly "You're more than you give yourself credit for. I've seen the way you are, the way you protect everyone around you with the little things you do like pushing the knife rack closer to the wall when you walk by. I've seen how you retort back to patton's cheesy jokes with your own when nobody else will. You've comforted me when I was at my lowest and been there with Logan when he was struggling to understand himself. You're great. I'm sure he thinks so, too."

The words hit Virgil slowly, as if the rose was being watered by falling rain that seeped through the cracks of his facade.

He felt a thumb swipe at his cheek with such a gentle motion that he almost missed the cold, damp reason for the action. Roman didn't say it, but his action screamed 'please don't cry, I'm here', and Virgil couldn't help but melt into the fanciful sides touch a little more.

The thorns hurt a little less, but he knew they were only pulling back to shoot out with more force.

Virgil froze when he felt the warm hand moving his bangs out of his eyes and holding them in place as Roman placed a small tentative kiss to his forehead.

Neither of them could tell you who slipped who's hand into theirs, but Virgil knew that for now, the thorns would hold back until morning. He wouldn't say anything today, or maybe ever, but for now, he was accepting the petals a little more, and letting them grow.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is sort of based off of a reoccurring metaphor from patentpending's "[Powerless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481223/chapters/30910989/)" fic. I honestly just loved the way roses were used to explain how falling in love was and my dizzy three am self was like yeah that seems legit. I also drew some minimal inspiration from [this song](https://youtube.com/watch?v=aqu4ezLQEUA/)


End file.
